Disaster!

          And a man named Joseph, who was a member of the Council, a good and righteous man (he had not consented to their plan and action), a man from Arimathea, a city of the Jews, who was waiting for the kingdom of God; this man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. And he took it down and wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid Him in a tomb cut into the rock, where no one had ever lain. It was the preparation day, and the Sabbath was about to begin. Now the women who had come with Him out of Galilee followed, and saw the tomb and how His body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and perfumes.

          And on the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment. (Luke 23:50-56)  

          Over the past week, a lot has been said here about emotions. Some have been shown to be related to or like another, but they’ve been treated as separate entities. Emotions really aren’t like that. What we feel is more like a tornado has swept through our pantry. The flour of anger, the sugar of desire, the baking soda of happiness, and the baking powder of sorrow are all on the floor, mixed together and indistinguishable except (perhaps) by an expert. More importantly, even if they could be separated into containers, they’re contaminated by the dirt of our lives. It’s just not easy.

          Since tomorrow is Resurrection Sunday, it seems appropriate to end the discussion of the emotions with the emotions that began Thursday night and carried through at least Sunday evening. Jesus’ strange talk about what was going to happen ended with it all coming true. After some disastrous flailing around, they went into quarantine, afraid that if they remained in public, they would die.

          They were afraid, grieving, bitterly disappointed with themselves, disappointed and possibly angry with God (He’d promised and now the promise was in ruins), anxious, confused, and quite probably bored (cabin-fever.) After all, shouldn’t they be doing something? Some were ashamed. They should have done something, or something else and they were sitting there, staring at each other or huddling in a corner pretending to sleep. If there’d been TV, there would have been arguments about whether to watch the news (the same bad news over and over) or some stupid sit-com, or some escapist trash, or something religious and uplifting. The footage of the crucifixion would  probably win in the same way that we sat and watched the jets fly into the Twin Towers over, and over, and over back on September 11, 2001.

          If one emotion can separate us from God as easily as it’s clear they do, how are we ever supposed to stay close to God when a Hurricane Katrina of emotions descends on the emotional New Orleans of our lives. Have I mentioned enough different kinds of crises yet?

          The key is practice between the crises. If you learn to turn to God instead of away when you stub your toe, you’ll be more ready to turn to Him instead of away when you lose your job. And if you turn toward Him when you lose your job, you’ll be more able to turn toward him when a mass shooter kills twenty-nine people at a school in your home town.

          This is why we should not protect one another from the smaller traumas of life. They strengthen us for the bigger ones, and the bigger ones prepare us for the monsters like that dark, dark time after the death of Jesus. One of the lessons we need to learn from that time is that even if we run away, even if we deny Him, even if we hide in a room (or house) afraid to go outside because we might die (after all, someone out there won’t be wearing masks and gloves!) – even if we get it so terribly wrong, Jesus will come looking for us, and we can turn toward Him – and even strengthen others – once we return.